Everyone’s a critic

I’ve always loved High Fidelity.

One of my favorite scenes is when Laura remarks that what Rob is doing by releasing an album to the world is special because he’s always been a critic, but by producing a record, he’s made himself part of the discussion.

So, recently I accepted a side gig by writing for Cold Hard Football Facts Monday Morning Hangover.  This week you’ll see that I covered the Jags/Titans and Jets/Saints.  Some poor guy from Seattle had to write about how great Peyton Manning is for once.

But instead of accolades, it seems that some people have the gall and temerity (not just gall mind you, but temerity as well) to dislike the piece that I so dutifully research every week.  CHFF’s own Omnidouche (note:  it’s actually Ombudsdouche, but I originally wrote what I wrote and have decided that it’s funnier this way) has very unkind things to say about the people that write for the Hangover. In fact, he does a remarkable job of reproducing the IQ Test I had to pass in order to write for CHFF.  How did he know I worship Chad Pennington?

In fairness, I realize that most of what I write is heavily edited so I can’t take it personally when someone doesn’t like the final product.  I also have to realize that you can’t please everyone all the time.  But in my defense, let me just point out that I’ve had to write about the Jacksonville Jaguars for four consecutive weeks, so I’m doing the best with what I have got to work with.  If nothing else, I feel that by contributing over there has lead to more pro-Manning environment.  Well that and #18 playing like few men in history ever have.

Anyway, I’m so hurt by the ripping the Ombudsdouche gave me that I’ve decided not to write for the Hangover next week.  Well, that and the fact that I’m traveling to a small town in Argentina and can’t vouch for my internet connection, but acting like I’m mad makes for a more high drama blog post.

For better or worse, I’ve put myself out there.  I can’t imagine the angst I’ll feel if I ever get my book published.  Now I know how Bob Kravitz feels.  Maybe I should be nicer to him…